


If The Shoe Fits

by cherishadamparrish



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cinderella Elements, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, Football Player Ronan, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 13:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11487465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishadamparrish/pseuds/cherishadamparrish
Summary: Adam Parrish has one goal: Princeton.With juggling school, rent, three jobs and the general hassle of existence, Princeton seems damn near impossible. Luckily, Adam's never been one to strive for anything less.One of the only uplifting things in Adam's life is the prospect of meeting fellow-student online enigma, who goes by the pseudonym 'Nomad,' at their high school Halloween dance. Adam is unreasonably excited at the idea of finally meeting his long-term internet pen pal.If only Ronan Lynch, resident Aglionby asshole, would leave him the fuck alone.(loosely based on A Cinderella Story)





	If The Shoe Fits

**Author's Note:**

> Jasmin's fault.

Adam cracked his eyes open at the sound of his alarm. He groggily swatted at it, turning it off, taking an exhausted breath and allowing himself a moment’s rest before he pulled himself up, his threadbare blanket crumpling to his waist.

The early hours of sunlight just beginning to seep into the empty sky broke in between Adam’s ragged curtains, airborne dust clearly visible as the drapes shifted while Adam efficiently strode towards the bathroom. After quickly getting ready, he carefully stuffed his Aglionby uniform into his bag alongside his textbooks, swinging the bag over his shoulder and swiftly locking the door, departing from his apartment just above St. Agnes church.

He had a shift at Nino’s until 8, class at 9. A second shift at Nino’s after classes until 8, a library shift from 8:30 to 11. His evenings after that were reserved for homework. He had an essay due in two days that he had hardly started, a math assignment, a few chapters for English Lit. It would take him until the early hours of tomorrow where it would all begin again.  

And thus started the cycle that Adam Parrish had become accustomed to.

He thought of collapsing back into bed. _For Princeton_ , he reminded himself, though he didn’t need the reminder. To get out, to be more, to _leave_.

He swiftly marched down the steps, bag bumping against his hip. He bit his lip when he’d noticed that the sprinklers of the lawns surrounding the church were on, drenching the wilted grass.

It was faster to cut through the field towards the parking lot where his car was safely stored. No one would have bothered to steal it and Adam only knew because it looked as if it was constantly running on its last thread; the front of the car alone was made of spare parts from other vehicles, available only because of Adam’s third job as a mechanic.

He thought of dirtying his work uniform as a means to keep those five minutes that circling around the building would’ve greedily taken.

A short cut was time saved and Adam could always use more time. He sighed. He clutched the straps of his bag and sprinted across the field, droplets of water temporarily staining his uniform, causing it to go from imperfect to pathetically imperfect. He silently cursed when he arrived at his car, tossing his bag into the back, running his hand through the damp hair matted against his forehead.

He drove and parked at a strange little home, painted a baby blue, pulling out his worn phone. He was about to text Blue his arrival before the door swung open. Blue sprinted across her lawn, assumably calling out a good bye over her shoulder, hair flailing wildly against her cheeks. She was dressed in her Nino’s uniform - same as Adam - clad in dark pants, a black tee shirt and a peach coloured apron that fell past her thighs and wrapped around her waist. Adam could clearly see the mismatched clips that attempted to pin her hair up but failed spectacularly; wisps and curls instead framing her cheeks.

Blue knocked on the passenger window and Adam reached across the seat to unlock her door. She tumbled in, tossing her bag next to Adam’s.

Every morning Adam would pick Blue up so that they could work their morning shift at Nino’s - a small, run-down, charismatic diner - together.

“You look like shit.” She said cheerily.

Adam shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb. “Thanks, Blue. Nice to see you too.”

“It’s too early for pleasantries.”

Adam huffed a dry laugh. “Agreed.”

 

* * *

 

When they arrived, Blue disappeared behind the kitchen while Adam carried their bags to the back room; a small area that housed an old couch, a handful of magazines place on a side table and cubbies designated to each employee containing their roller skates. The roller skates were unarguably the most distasteful part of Nino’s uniform. Adam quickly smoothed down his apron, fingering the strip of fabric that went around his neck and tightening the straps around his waist before he reached for his skates. Blue appeared in the entry way, tossing a muffin Adam’s way, a piece of french toast sandwiched between her lips.

“I don’t know why we need to work so damn early.” Blue grumbled. She sagged next to Adam on the shabby couch, begrudgingly grabbing her skates. “Hardly anyone comes in.”

“The more hours we work, the more money we make.”

“We should at least be able to ditch the roller skates during morning shifts. Like, really? Are these necessary?”

Adam internally agreed. They were a nuisance and made his job ten times harder. Blue hated the skates with a fiery passion, Adam diligently listening to her rant about them each time she accidentally hip checked the corner of a table.

Instead, he shrugged. “It completes the whole retro look,” he responded, taking a massive bite of his muffin.

Blue rolled her eyes. She carefully stood, gripping Adam’s forearm while she wobbled, taking a steadying breath and departing through the doorway. Adam followed her down a narrow hall, passing the kitchen’s entrance where he heard a plethora of greetings, cooks frying greasy foods in the back and chopping bagged vegetables near the front. Adam traipsed behind the counter while Blue stood on the opposite side, her elbows placed on the granite surface, cheeks stubbornly cradled in her hands.

She narrowed her eyes while Adam comfortably roamed around. “You’re too good at this.”

“Not all of us are hopeless on skates.” Adam teased while she leaned over the counter, swatting at his shoulder. He passed her a notepad and pen, pocketing another for himself.

“I’ve worked here longer. You’re not supposed to be better than me.”

Adam glided backwards, ducking underneath the open end of the counter, darting towards Blue and skating around her in an effortless motion. He grinned smugly when Blue flipped him off. She tossed him an old rag.

“Oh, clean the damn counters already.”

Blue left, intent on aiding the first batch of customers that arrived: an old married couple that came in almost every day and tipped as generously as they offered smiles. Adam waved when he’d noticed them before going back to quietly wiping down the near spotless countertops. With the repetitive, tedious task and the lack of customers, Adam let his mind wander. He eyed the walls of the restaurant, silently admiring the friendly, familiar atmosphere.

The restaurant was decorated in varying shades of pink, the very same that painted each employee’s apron. Several poised photos framed the walls, positioned together that looked more like an effervescing scrap book than a family-friendly diner. Fluorescent, neon-pink lights adorned the walls, circling the clock or creating random shapes along the room. Adam’s favourite aspect of the restaurant in particular was the small crooked corner on the side of the wall adjacent to the counter where a handwritten quote, in cursive font, was painted over the faded wall paper:

_‘Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game.’_

When Adam had met Blue on his first shift and openly appreciated the quote, she had muttered, “it’s cliche and tacky,” before handing him his apron.

It was but Adam let himself admire it anyways.

The work started to pick up and soon Blue and Adam found themselves skating past each other, taking early morning orders and filling mugs of steaming coffee. Adam found himself a moment’s break, the same time Blue was beginning to pull her skates off, rubbing at her ankles. She always finished her mornings half an hour earlier than him because her classes started earlier and she needed at least ten minutes to walk to her school. When they’d first talked, Blue had complained about the infrastructure of public school systems before asking Adam of where he attended. She nearly combusted, instead dramatically recoiling in distaste when Adam had offhandedly mentioned his scholarship at Aglionby - a private, rich-boy infested land of excessive white privilege.

“You’re a _Raven boy_?” She crinkled her nose in blatant disgust.

“Not really.” 

“You go to Aglionby. So you’re a Raven boy.”

“Hardly.” Adam snorted, self deprecatingly. “I don’t think I’m rich or obliviously offensive enough to garner that title.”

“Thank God,” she responded. Adam smiled crookedly.

She’d teased him about it ever since.

Now, as she packed away her things, she casually murmured. “Good luck at your school of hell. Survive another day and all that.”

“Thanks,” Adam distractedly responded, writing down an order.

“Having any luck in the ‘making friends’ department?”

“I think it’ll be a cold day in hell when I make friends with an Aglionby boy who doesn’t make me want to throw myself into the nearest wall.”

“It couldn’t hurt to _try_ and talk to someone. Tad’s hopelessly obsessed with you. Try him.”

“Uh, no.” Adam repressed a shudder at the suggestion. “Since when are you so interested in me befriending Aglionby boys? I thought you hated them.”

“I do,” Blue reflexively answered, “well most of them,” she amended. “But there’s got to be another one of you in there.”

“Another scholarship student?”

“Another one of something _real_.”

Adam snorted. “They’re a bunch of rich, annoying assholes. I’m just glad none of them wake up early enough to ruin morning shifts here.”

Aglionby was too damn close to Nino’s and Adam often found himself waiting on classmates during his shift after school. It was humiliating. While groups of Aglionby boys clamoured into Nino’s tiny booths, they would mockingly snap their fingers to gain Adam’s attention, hollering out ‘ _Diner Boy_ ’ the same way one would discuss spoiled milk. 

Blue patted Adam’s shoulder sympathetically. She had her fair share of terrible encounters with Raven boys.

“On that happy note, I’m off.”

“Have fun kicking biology’s ass,” Adam called over his shoulder, referring to her lab quiz she’d been stressing over the entire weekend.

“Will do,” she answered before tearing out of the building. Adam watched her depart until a customer's hand flagged him down and he was forced out of his stupor.

 

* * *

 

After his shift, Adam left for school. Usually he was just able to arrive earlier than the rush. Today he was not so lucky. After five minutes of driving around the parking lot, his gaze snagged an empty spot near the main front entrance. 

He was about to pull into the spot when another car cut in front of him, stealing it. Adam frustratedly huffed, looking onwards in furious contempt. He recognized the car and the boys that spilled out of it, laughing with each other, tossing friendly jeers and jauntily nudging one another. _Fucking football players_. They thought they owned the whole damn school because they were able to mindlessly toss a ball around a field.

The boys slammed the back doors shut, loud and obnoxious, Richard Gansey the Third - how fucking pretentious did _that_ sound - circling around from the passenger seat while the infamous Ronan Lynch exited from the driver’s side. Adam zeroed in on Lynch as he lifted his hand over his shoulder, casually locking the car doors in unveiled arrogance. While the boys were clapping Richard Gansey’s shoulder, spitting juvenile cracks, Lynch remained near silent, jaw clenched.

Lynch moved like he was marching towards war, with sharp eyes and a sharper mouth, arms clad in a leather jacket and folded over his chest.  

Adam felt inexplicably annoyed with himself for paying attention.

They must’ve noticed Adam staring because in record time, their group was looking his way, each staring at him with matching sneers.

“Trailer Trash, do you mind?” One boy shouted.

“Yeah, stop being a fucking creep.”

“Hey, Diner Boy,” another nameless boy chortled, looking obnoxiously over at his friends, “can I get a breakfast burrito to go? Thanks.” He snickered.

Adam simmered in his seat, sporting a fierce glare. His hands were clenched underneath the steering wheel as he fought to remain calm, to let the insults slide off of him, to ignore their jagged idiocy.  

He gripped his gearshift with harsh fervor, reversing and pulling to the far end of the parking lot.

He burned as he heard them laughing behind them.

 

* * *

 

Adam bustled through the halls towards his class, clutching his books for first period. It was far too early but he liked it this way; he was able to review the homework he had done the night before in the near quiet solitude of an empty classroom. He wearily sidestepped the groups of boys that hung in packs, loudly clapping each other on the back in brotherly companionship, locker doors left ajar in the wake of meaningless conversation. Adam left a wide berth for the general populace, dodging the bodies that fumbled around him, that every so often bumped into him. A shoulder, an elbow. Adam grunted.

He wasn’t here to be friendly. He was here because he wanted Princeton. Aglionby was just a stepping stone. He’d fought tooth and nail to get in and now he’d fight to get out at the top of each class, to leave this godforsaken town and do _more_.

He could see the door of his English Lit classroom. Almost there.

“Hey, Adam!” A familiar voice broke through the cacophony of the hallway.

Adam let out a frustrated groan.

He was so close.

He paused and turned.

“Tad.” Adam inwardly sighed. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t necessarily opposed to making friends. In fact he wouldn’t mind it. He just wasn’t sure why it had to be Tad, of all people, who was willing to speak to him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Tad repeated brightly. He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck when conversation quickly died out. Adam stood impatiently, eyes trained on the classroom door just past Tad. “So, uh, what’s up?”

“Not much since yesterday.” Adam sighed.

“Yeah, cool, I get that. Same old same old, here hey? Gets kind’ve boring. Sometimes I just get tired of it, you know, the _routine_ of everything-”

“Tad,” Adam interrupted. “I need to get to class.”

He frowned. “But the warning bell doesn't ring for another 20.”

“I’ve got homework to catch up on.” He didn’t have homework to catch up on.

“Oh, sure. See you later then, Parrish?” Tad knocked Adam’s shoulder with his knuckles, squeaking out an awkward laugh.

“Sure, Tad.” Adam mustered up a bland smile and strode past him.

He flicked on the lights as he entered the vacant room, softly closing the door, the signalling of the soft telltale click causing Adam to loosen up. He dumped his books on a desk near the front beside the window, the same one he’d sat in since day one; close enough to listen well, against the window which overlooked the expanse of the football field. Without the pretentious athletes ruining the view, it was almost nice.

He crumpled into the plastic chair, opting to get ahead in one of his readings when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

It was hardly a phone of this century. It was an ancient, second-hand piece of shit, where Adam needed to press the phone’s buttons harder than necessary to get it to operate, but it did its job, if rather slow. He had initially purchased it so that he’d be able to contact his managers in case of emergency or schedule change and to talk to Blue.

Recently, a third reason had been formed.

A quiet smile, the edges of his lips quirking upwards and no more, appeared when he flipped his phone open and noticed a message notification on his scratched screen.

 

 **princeton18, where’ve u been? we haven’t talked in ages.**  

 

Adam rolled his eyes before responding.

 

_We talked last night._

 

**that was at least 9 hours ago**

 

**some of us don’t like to go to bed at the break of 8 o clock.**

 

_Have you been keeping track?_

 

_I couldn’t text. I had homework._

 

_Some of us have Ivy Leagues we need to get into._

 

**you’re kidding**

 

**I wouldn’t have guessed**

 

**u’ve never mentioned school, like, ever**

 

_Hilarious._

 

**whats on your mind right now?**

 

Adam hesitated at the abrupt shift in conversation before he typed out his reply.

 

_You first._

 

**im pissed prof whitewieler won’t let me dissect anything in class. the fuck is the point of science?**

 

_I’ve never met you in real life but I know I also wouldn’t trust you with anything sharp._

 

**wow**

 

**that hurts**

 

The first trickle of students started making their way into the classroom, the first warning bell reverberating throughout the halls.

 

**and now ignoring my texts? after crushing my dreams?**

 

**you’re cold**

 

**princeton isn’t gunna know what’s hit them**

 

Adam probably looked like an idiot, smiling down at his phone that was tucked in his lap.

 

_Shut up._

 

_Class starts soon._

 

_Go away._

 

**you could at least pretend u enjoy our conversations**

 

**giant ass nerd**

 

_I’ll talk to you later._

 

The teacher, Mrs. Barnes, sauntered in and Adam quickly shoved his phone in his pocket. The second bell rang, signalling the beginning of instruction. Typically Ronan Lynch arrived ten minutes later, interrupting mid-lecture, smiling jaggedly at the teacher. His phone was in his hand but he quickly slipped it in his pocket whilst Mrs. Barnes began her near routine lecture about arriving late.

 _What a fucking asshole_ , Adam thought viciously. He kept his focus on his notes in front of him, well aware of the brief moment of Lynch passing him to get to his seat that was four desks away from where Adam was.

He thought of his earlier conversation with Blue. Behind him, Lynch was obnoxiously settling into his chair, rustling his papers loud enough that it managed to drowned out Mrs. Barnes soft voice and with it, the detailed quality of Adam’s notetaking.

It’d be a cold day in hell indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is happening?
> 
> (PS. I hate writing text conversations but it's kind've necessary, real sorry you're going to read these bland back-and-forth messages)


End file.
